


Hour of Need

by sepulchrecas



Series: Master Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Bed-Wetting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam, Desperation, Dom Dean, Fluff and Smut, Holding, M/M, Master/Pet, Omorashi, Orgasm Denial, Sub Sam, Top Dean, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepulchrecas/pseuds/sepulchrecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a wetness spreading all between his legs, soaking through the memory foam of the mattress to pool between their bodies. Sam panics. His eyes widen and his breathing comes quicker. Dean’s going to be fucking <em>pissed</em> absolutely no pun intended.<br/>He crawls out of bed as best he can, but his Master stirs and wakes up. He rolls over right into the wet spot, and Sam can see the realization cross his face even with his eyes closed. He sighs deeply, and his hands ball up into fists.<br/>Sam shakes.<br/>“Sam,” Dean growls, and Sam cowers. “Go. Lay. Down.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hour of Need

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. If watersports/urolagnia isn't your thing, then this work probably isn't either. Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

When Sam wakes up the next morning he’s warm, abnormally so. He knows Dean’s an inferno, that he’s always run a little hotter than average, and right now Sam is most definitely not complaining. He rolls over so Dean can wrap his arms around his body, and that’s when he feels it.

Wet.

There’s a wetness spreading all between his legs, soaking through the memory foam of the mattress to pool between their bodies. Sam panics. His eyes widen and his breathing comes quicker.

Dean’s going to be fucking _pissed_ absolutely no pun intended.

He crawls out of bed as best he can, but his Master stirs and wakes up. He rolls over right into the wet spot, and Sam can see the realization cross his face even with his eyes closed.

He sighs deeply, and his hands ball up into fists.

Sam shakes.

He’s cold because there’s piss drying on his skin, and their house is always a little cold in the mornings, but he’s also so scared. He doesn’t want to be in trouble.

He was doing so well.

“Sam,” Dean growls, and Sam cowers. “Go. Lay. Down.”

Sam hangs his head.

Dean only ever uses that voice when Sam’s about to get a spanking or worse, when he is so obviously the pet, and Dean is the Master. Sam waddles over to his pet bed, the little twin next to Dean’s queen bed, lower than his Master’s so he’s closer to the floor.

It’s normal for him to sleep there and not in Dean’s bed, but most of the time he’s so good his Master lets him sleep up in the comfort of the queen bed he loves so much.

However, when he’s been bad, that’s another story. He’s forced into the little bed and bound there like the pet he is, and he lays curled in a ball until he’s ready to be let free, until he realizes he’s been bad.

He hates it.

He feels isolated and guilty, so he figures it gets the job done.

The leash around his neck gives him enough leeway to get to the food and water bowl in the corner by his bed, but no further. Not enough to get to Dean when he’s on the furthest side of the bed even when Sam stretches his arm out as far as he can reach he can’t touch his Master.

Right now Sam crawls onto his bare bed, naked of any blankets, and Dean angrily leashes him to the bedpost installed just for this reason.

He refuses to look at Sam even when he whines and whimpers, paws at Dean’s hands. His own get slapped out of the way, and Dean storms off out of the room.

Sam covers his head and starts to worry.

Dean comes back, but he doesn’t risk moving lest he be punished further. He knows it’s coming, but he doesn’t want to think about it, he’s not looking forward to it.

Sam can hear the rustle of sheets as they're ripped off the bed, and then the ruined memory foam topper. Dean throws them into the bathroom, pulls on his clothes and some boots, and then he’s stomping out of the house.

The roar of the impala is loud and annoying as usual, but it fades as Dean is undoubtedly driving off to God knows where.

Sam curls further into himself and keens.

He feels horrible for doing it, he didn’t mean to, and he hopes Dean can understand that.

Eventually waiting gets boring, and he falls back asleep.

When he comes to Dean is standing in front of him with a plastic bag concealing something he bought. Sam pulls his best puppy face, trying to get out of this in the best way possible, but judging by Dean’s face that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

“I’m still fucking livid about the bed, Sam, I don’t want you to forget that, pet,” Dean bites out, and Sam shivers. “But, I think it can be solved with some potty training, how about that?”

Sam’s brow furrows and he tries to read through the thin plastic to see the label on the thing inside, but he can’t, he’s still sleepy and there’s a fog masking his vision on the edges just enough to make it so he can’t see it.

Dean pulls it out of the bag, and Sam inhales sharply.

Puppy pads.

"You're allowed to use however many a day you deserve when I'm at work until this pack runs out, and then if you're not trained by then maybe I'll have to put you in diapers." Sam's eyes widen further at the mention of diapers, and Dean smiles. "But, you've still been bad, and I have to head into work today, so I'll let you use just one. If you have to go more than the pad can hold, you're going to have to hold it, and I’m still keeping you here on the leash. You have everything you need, don’t you? I love you, I’ll see you after I get home from work, pet.”

Sam closes his eyes when Dean kisses his forehead, and then he’s gone, but there’s a little puppy pad to take his place.

It’s only about twelve inches by twelve inches, and he has no idea how it’s going to get the job done.

He should have gone to the bathroom when he got out of bed because his bladder is already full, and he has to make this pad work for the whole day.

Another hour and he can’t stand it any longer. He crawls carefully out of bed and makes sure all of his piss stays in the lines of the little puppy pad.

It probably has the capacity for another go, but he can wait until Dean gets home, he tries to convince himself. But, the more he thinks about it, the fuller his bladder gets.

He squirms and holds his hands between his crossed legs, but then there’s a weight settled on his stomach, and he knows he’s not supposed to make another mess like this morning, so he stops and settles for laying on his side.

When he starts to leak he lets as much as he can out onto the pad, but it’s starting to move off of it and onto the carpet so he forces himself to stop despite the churning of his stomach.

He checks the nightstand clock -- Dean’s home in ten minutes, but he doesn’t know if he can make it that long.

Holding onto his cock seems to help, and he eats some of the fruit and crackers Dean left for him to eat, which helps to keep his mind off of the throb in his abdomen.

Two more minutes, he tells himself, but then he’s leaking again and he shuts his eyes tight. Maybe if he does he won’t have to feel himself break the rules again, won't have to see it.

Dean walks in just as he loses it.

“Hm, too bad, Sammy, I thought you were a good boy.” Dean lays down another pad and Sam uses that one, too. He’s left gasping, and he braces himself on the floor. “You okay?” _Do you need to safe-word out?_ Is his silent question. Sam nods his head signalling that he's fine.

Dean throws both of the pads away and helps Sam onto his pet bed.

“You’re staying here tonight, pet, and no more pads. If you have to go tell me and I’ll take you to the bathroom, but you only get three times from here until bed time.”

Sam sighs and hides his face. He’s still getting used to this whole thing, the holding and the only going when Dean tells him. He’s always just gone when he felt the urge, but now he has to bear with it until Dean tells him he can go. It’s making his cock twitch because he enjoys feeling owned, and Dean smiles.

“Come on, I’ll let you clean yourself up in the shower, and then we can eat dinner. I bought burgers, the good ones from Ellen’s. She asked about you, and you know what I said? I told her my pet was at home being a good little boy, but I guess I was wrong. You know bad pets get spankings, don’t you, Sammy?” Sam nods his head. “Mm, maybe I won’t have to if you are a good boy tomorrow.”

Sam gets into the shower obediently, and lets his Master clean between his legs.

He dries himself off, and then it’s off to eat burgers. Sam sits on the floor beside Dean’s feet on a little pillow meant for exactly this, and his Master feeds him little bites here and there when the conversation lulls. Dean tells him about his day, about how Gabriel has been slacking in turning in reports, and Sam nods his head like he understands.

By the time dinner is over, Sam is pleasantly full in more than one way. Dean moves his pillow into the living room where he resumes an episode of some drama show he enjoys, but Sam taps his legs twice to signal that he needs to use the bathroom.

“Ten more minutes, this episode is almost over. Can you wait?” Sam hesitates for a second before nodding his head.

Ten minutes come and go, but Dean still shoos him off so he can listen to the show.

“Master,” Sam whines, and Dean sighs, finally pausing it.

“Yes?”

“Please.”

Dean helps him up off the floor so he can stand and walk to the bathroom, and he helps Sam to keep himself upright as he empties his bladder.

“Feel better, pet?” Sam hums. “Good. Do you want to go to bed?” Sam nods his head. “If you have to go to the bathroom during the night, come and get me, no going on your own, and you only get to go once.”

Sam climbs into bed, and almost immediately falls to sleep.

Since he didn’t use his allotted one time during the night, Dean lets him go before leaving for work. The little training pad haunts him, and he stares up at the ceiling to keep his mind off of it. He licks water out of his bowl, the note attached to it says there are two other water bottles under his bed that Dean expects to be drunk while he’s gone, and he picks at the salad Dean left, the kind with the good dressing, a bribe.

He sips at the other water bottle until his stomach is full, and his bladder is just as equally. There are two pads left for him today, and the note left for him says that if he uses just one he gets a treat, but if he uses the second one he won’t.

He uses the first one in the third hour, Dean’s going to be gone for five, and he figures he can make it the other two, but there’s still another water bottle glaring at him that he needs to drink, and then he begins to second guess himself.

There’s Dean’s cell phone sitting on the counter, and he knows he can call the office, he can safe-word, or just have the comfort of his Dom on the other line, but he resists for as long as he can.

He dials Dean’s office desk, and he gets the receptionist.

“Hello, this is Dean Winchester’s office. He’s currently out to lunch, can I take a message?”

“Uh, hi, this is Sam.”

“Oh, Sam! Dean’s expecting your call, I’ll put you right through, just one second, darlin’.”

Sam waits for his Master to pick up the call, phone in one hand and his cock in the other, trying to hold back what’s inside of him because he desperately wants that treat, and he can’t use the other pad. He simply can’t.

“Hello? Sammy, is that you? You can talk.”

“Master,” Sam whines, and he throws his head back so his hair is out of his face. “I need to go.”

“How many pads have you used, pet?” Dean asks lowly, and Sam can hear the slide of a zipper as Dean’s undoubtedly pulling his cock out through the slit in his briefs.

“One.”

“Then use the other one, Sammy, that’s what it’s there for.”

“I want a treat.”

“Sam, I keep telling you that bad boys don’t get treats.”

“I --”

“That’s the end of it, Sam, you don’t get a treat if you go on the second pad, but maybe if you’re good tomorrow, I’ll let you have a treat. I have thirty minutes left and then I’ll be home, I’m packing up right now.”

“Master, please.”

“If you can wait half an hour I’ll let you go in the toilet, and I’ll give you _two_ treats.”

That sobers Sam right up, and he’s filled with determination.

“I can do it,” he says confidently, and Dean laughs.

“That’s my good boy, Sammy. I’ll see you in twenty five.”

Dean hangs up, and Sam tosses the phone to the side, on top of his Master’s bed, and then he squeezes his legs together as hard as he can.

Whining seems to help, he can focus on making noise. He leaks a little, and he lets as much as he can out onto the first pad until it’s full, and then he stops. That gives him a lot of leeway. He doesn’t have to scrunch up so tight, and he knows he can make it now.

That makes excitement course through his veins, and he perks up quite a bit.

When Dean comes home he sets himself on the floor with a big smile, hands behind his back and legs spread, the pads in front of him, one used, one not, both water bottles drained, and the food long since eaten.

“Wow, pet, you did so well, come here.” Sam’s leash is unfastened, and then Dean is taking him to the bathroom so he can relieve himself with a groan.

Dean pets down his sides and whispers dirty praise into his ear in a low, attractive voice that makes Sam’s cock stiffen up when he’s done pissing.

“I’m going to let you come, Sam, and you get to choose how. Why don’t you pull out the toy box, huh?”

Sam shivers and grins.

Rarely do they ever use toys, that’s a special treat reserved for Sam’s birthday, or Dean’s, maybe holidays, but never on an ordinary day like this.

He runs to get under Dean’s bed, yanking out the trunk-like box so he can choose what to play with.

There’s a myriad of things to use, anal beads, vibrators, dildos as long as his arm he can only ever get in about halfway, a little strap that goes around his cock that sends shocks and vibrates so fast Sam comes within sixty seconds of putting it on. However, that’s not how he wants to cash in his one oragasm.

“I want you,” Sam decides, and Dean’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re going to give up your chance to use toys for my cock, baby boy?” Dean asks, humming. “Maybe I’ll let you come twice just for that, I’m flattered.”

Sam locks the box back up and shoves it under the mattress resolutely. He sits back on his heels and waits for direction.

“Get on the bed on your back, knees to your chest so I can see that pretty hole you have.”

Sam holds his legs open so Dean can trail a finger over his sac and his hole. "Beautiful. I'm going to fuck you nice and deep until you can't say anything but your Master's name, that sound good?"

Sam moans and grabs at Dean to get him closer.

"You can come twice, but that's it. If you come more than that I'll pull out and finish myself off while you watch, and you won't be able to taste."

Sam nods his understanding.

Dean grabs a bottle of lube and spends his time opening Sam up just like always. Sam whines and moans the whole time, and he tries desperately not to come, but now that Dean is giving him some time to, at least outside of the once a month, his dick is on board with orgasming whenever it likes to, not when Sam wants it to.

He holds off as long as he can, and just when he’s about to come, Dean pulls away. He sighs gratefully, and Dean kisses him.

“You’re such a good puppy, Sammy. Do you want to ride me? I can fasten your leash to your collar and hold you down real close, make you come all over my chest, and then make you lick it up so your Master’s all clean.”

Sam closes his eyes shut and tries to think of the least attractive thing he can muster, trying to get the thought of licking his come off of Dean’s skin out of his head, or he’s going to orgasm now.

His cock spills over Dean’s warm hand, and he sighs, both because of the pleasure, and also because of frustration.

“That’s one, pet, you only have one more left. Do you want to ride me? You can still play with the toys in the box if that’s what you want.”

Sam shakes his head.

“I want to ride you, please.”

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean cups his cheek and rests their foreheads together. “Okay. Anything you want.”

Dean turns them so Sam is on his lap, about to sink down on his Master’s cock, but he won’t let him. He hooks the leash through the loop in the center of his collar, and then he’s pulling Sam’s head down as he begins to screw himself on Dean’s dick.

His eyelids flutter closed, and he sits down fully so Dean’s as deep as he can get. He sits there for a few moments breathing hard, and Dean lets up on the leash so he can lean back and start to rock.

“God, Sammy, you look so good stretched out on my cock like the good little pet you are. Come on, harder, I know you can get me in deeper.”

Sam spreads his legs and plants himself further in Dean’s lap, starts twisting up and slamming down, his Master a groaning, panting mess, and Sam’s proud to say he did that, made Dean feel that good.

“You know, maybe I should have put the memory foam back on the bed and shoved your face in it while I fucked you from behind. You know that’s how you get a -- aw, holy shit, Sam -- dog to stop peeing everywhere? Shove their face in their piss. You want me to do that, Sammy? Fill you up while you smell your piss on my bed?” Sam orgasms unexpectedly between them, his cock twitching, come spilling from his slit, and he moans loud and long, fucks himself down harder on Dean’s cock until his Master is coming, too.

Dean yanks him down by his leash and he jolts forward, Dean’s soft cock slipping out of him slowly to fall against his cheeks.

“Lick me clean like a good puppy.” Sam sleepily laps at the come on Dean’s chest, swallows every once in a while, and he sucks a bruise into Dean’s skin for good measure. “Good boy.”

Sam shudders at the praise.

Dean helps Sam under the blanket, and he falls immediately asleep, however, he doesn't miss the feeling of the plastic mattress cover beneath the new sheets.

He wakes up having wet the bed again, but Dean's not as mad because nothing's ruined, it's just sheets and towels to be washed, however, Sam feels horrible for doing it even though it was involuntary. It's all the water Dean's making him drink.

“Go lay down in your bed,” Dean says after cleaning him up. “I don’t know if you even deserve a pad today, Sammy, maybe you should just hold it until I get back.”

Sam’s stomach drops.

There’s no way in _hell_ that he can go a day without a pad or finding a way to use the toilet somehow.

“Master --”

“Sam, just . . . stop talking and let me think. I need to get ready for work, I’ll come back up before I leave.”

Sam’s tied to the bedpost, and he sits on the floor instead of his bed. Dean comes up a few times to put some food in his bowl, and to leave a few water bottles, but he doesn’t say anything further.

Sam’s nervous. He hopes Dean gives him something. If not he’s in for a world of pain.

“Okay, Sammy, here’s the deal. You have to hold it all day like a big boy, sorry. You have two options, go now and have to wait until I get back, or, wait and you have one free pass to use the bathroom as you wish today, you just have to call and tell me, and I’ll come home and let you in the bathroom.”

“I’ll wait,” Sam answers, and Dean kisses his head.

“Good puppy. I can take a break at any point in the day, so let me know when you need me, but remember it takes me a while to get home so call responsibly. No messes. If I come home to find a mess there’s no pad tomorrow, and no break at all.”

Sam nods his head. He’s not sure he can do it, but for his Master? He can do anything.

Dean kisses him once before leaving.

Sam’s since been untied, and he walks around the house trying to find things to distract him. There’s TV, but he’s not allowed on the couch. There’s food in the fridge, but he’s only allowed to eat what’s given to him, the carefully measured portions that fill him up just right.

However, those candies Dean left on the counter are looking pretty good.

Sam manages to resist.

He eats what’s in his bowl with a spoon that he licks clean, and he sips at the water bottles when his throat and tongue get dry, but he tries not to drink too much, he still has to last five hours of agony, and he’s already starting to fill up.

Although it’s just a dull throb in the back of his mind, it’s annoying, and all of his instincts are telling him to relieve the itch and burn, but he can’t.

He forces himself not to.

There are two hours left, but he simply can’t bear it.

He picks up the home phone and dials the office for the second time that week.

“Hello, this is Dean Winchester’s office. He’s currently in a meeting and will be taking messages only. Would you like to leave one?”

“This is Sam again.”

“Oh, Dean said to put you through, but he really is in a meeting, and he really can’t take your call. Do you want to leave a message or wait on hold?”

“No, that’s . . . that’s fine. I’ll call back in a little bit. How long is the meeting for?”

“It says here until eight tonight, but you can never be sure, those sorts of things always run a little long. Sorry, hun, wish I could help.”

She hangs up, and Sam almost cries.

It’s four in the afternoon. Dean’s supposed to be home by six.

He _cannot_ wait until eight tonight, there’s no way. There’s absolutely no way, and the bathroom door is locked, shut tight with no way of getting in without breaking it down or picking the lock, something Sam doesn’t know how to do.

He thinks sleep is his best option now. He curls up on his bed with his hand between his legs just in case, and he’s out like a light.

“Sam? Sam? Shit, Sammy, wake up, come on, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

“Wha -- Dean? What time is it?”

“Nine, come on, you’ve waited too long, come on.” Dean helps him out of the bed and into the bathroom, but the sleepiness has killed some of the urge to go. But, as soon as he stands up in front of the toilet the urge is back full force and he has no choice but to let go with a groan. “Fuck, sorry, Sammy, I forgot the meeting was today, and --”

“S’okay, s’okay.”

“Not it’s not, I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Sam slurs as his stream tapers off. He’s still tired, and Dean helps him back under the warm blankets.

“You don’t want a shower and a treat? You didn’t even make a mess or do anything bad, come on, I’ll give you the special treatment, what do you say?”

“Mm, yeah, sounds good.”

“Come ‘ere.” Dean pulls Sam in real close and hugs him tight. “I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Dean helps Sam into the tub and turns on the shower head to a comfortable warmth. He lets Sam stand under it while Dean cleans his body with the loofah, up and down, in every nook and cranny, in every dip and curve of soft, tanned skin.

By the time they’re both done Sam’s cock is hard, flushed, and curving towards his belly, not even aching or hurting, he’s just turned on, and pleasantly so.

Dean gets on his knees after turning the water off and Sam’s eyes roll back in his head when his Master sucks him down to the base.

He’s not allowed to come even though he did so well, he’s come too much these past few days, Dean tells him, but it feels so good to have a mouth on him, to know Dean’s taking care of him.

Dean goes down to eat dinner, but Sam’s not hungry, still full from the snack he had earlier.

He curls up on the queen mattress like Dean told him to, and he drifts waiting for his Master to come back into the room.

Dean surprises him with chilled hands against warm skin, and Sam shivers.

“Did so well for me, pet, you might get to use the big boy toilet alone tomorrow,” Dean says as he teases his fingers across Sam’s nipples. He shudders again.

For once, Sam thinks, he’s looking forward to a part two.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)   
>  [My Other Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/invictusimpala)


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